The termination of my job at the Big Publishing Company, at least the way it played out, was like leaving New York all over again, only ten years after the fact.
The day-to-day interaction with people there at the headquarters, as sparse and routine as the communication became towards the end of my contract, gave me a low-grade buzz feeling that I was still playing in the New York league of work and business, even from thousands of miles away.
That I had discovered I could pull this off, and still compete in the "contact sport" of New York work places, was a great satisfaction for me, as a means of a fringe benefit for my job.
I'd been able to do this---and amaze folks with my ability to solve problems on a high level---while traveling the U.S.A. and the world. Forty odd states. Over a dozen countries. Three continents.
But by January of this year, I already knew it was time to move on. I had achieved all my goals at this job, I felt. Moreover they had signaled they weren't going to need me after a certain date, because they were phasing out the platform I had helped build for them.
On my last day, I told my boss that I thought the Big Publishing Company was making a mistake, throwing away that software platform they had developed for themselves, in house. He saw my point, but we both knew it was an academic discussion. The decision had been made.
So I left New York again. This time I didn't drive over the Bayonne Bridge in an old Dodge loaded with boxes and junk, but simply got up in the morning and didn't turn on Skype.
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